New Year, New Life 

December 31

Everyone’s palms were sweating. Tomorrow everything would change. No one was ready.

“Girls, stop worrying. I’m sure we’ll be fine. We all used our two passes wisely, and from what I’ve seen, we’re only missing a small bit of the floor. So, let’s all calm down and treat this like every other day,” the father said.

No one responded. The Adams family had spent their whole lives in the Bad Place and Eva and Virginia’s father, Mason, gave the same speech every single year.

“I’m gonna head upstairs to my room, tell me when they come,” Virginia said, trying to act calm.

Before she even set foot in her room, she silently cried. She had worked on so many pieces of artwork, just for them to disappear into the unknown.

“Virginia?” a worried voice called.

She quickly wiped her tears. “Oh, hey, Mom! I was just… finishing up this drawing. What’s up?”

“Your father and I just had a realization. Please join us downstairs.”

Virginia panicked. Had she done something wrong? Did they find out they were staying in the Bad Place for another year? What happened?

She made her way downstairs, only to see everyone staring at her.

“Amelia, you can start,” Dad said, his voice grim.

“So, girls, I know we should’ve told you sooner, but... you have a brother.”

Both Eva and Virginia’s jaws dropped. They had never been in such shock in their entire lives.

Before either of them could open their mouths, their father continued with even more unbelievable news. “No matter where we end up, tomorrow he will be visiting us for a week.”

“What?! How did you only just now figure this out?” Virginia asked, letting out gulps of air after every word.

“Well, his name is Ethan, and when he was born, some of the Bad Place Guards took him for an inspection, you know… to see if he was one of them. We waited hours, expecting him to come home. Twenty years later and we’re still waiting,” their mother’s voice began to break.

“Sorry girls, this is a very emotional topic for your mother. Anyways, we came to a conclusion that he passed the inspection and is a Guard. Guards return home to their families every twenty years, but as I said before, they only come home for a week. Please don’t be upset at us for not telling you sooner, we just never found the right time.”

“Yeah, well this wasn’t exactly ideal timing,” Virginia ran upstairs and slammed the door, which she immediately regretted.

Virginia only lasted five minutes in isolation. She practiced angry faces in the mirror, and then walked slowly down the stairs. The moment Virginia set her foot on the last step, there was a knock at the door. It was them. They were here to take them to the ceremony. They all glanced at each other anxiously. Their father turned the door knob. The door opened gradually, and when it fully opened, a man dressed in all black appeared. He was one of the Guards.

“Get in,” he said in a deep, severe voice.

They all followed after the man. The two sisters sat in the third row of the car, while their parents sat in the second.

As Virginia got lost in her thoughts, the car came to a stop. The girls followed after their parents and went into the humongous building. When they walked in, millions of families were crying, knowing they wouldn’t make it.

Every year, the ceremony was about four hours long, starting at 8AM, when they began announcing where each family would start their new year, and ending at 12AM, where everyone was taken to their new home.

As the Adams were finding their assigned seats, they were frightened by a loud, far away voice. “One minute remaining.”

“They must’ve upgraded this place,” Virginia’s Dad whispered.

“Sadly,” Virginia whispered back.

“Cheer up, Kiddo. I know we made it.”

Before Virginia could argue, she heard the loud voice again. “Happy New Years Eve, everyone. To begin our ceremony, we will be announcing the names of people who are joining us from The Good Place.”

Virginia attempted to become lost in her thoughts again, praying she wouldn’t be interrupted this time.

“Should I own my own art studio in The Good Place?” she said to herself. As she was thinking of names for her studio, the voice caught her attention.

“Arnold Rogers, Max Dunwoody, Oliv- woah! Olivia Davis has just made history as the first woman to be kicked out of the Bad Place!” The crowd gasped. Silence no longer filled the room.

“That’s unfair to her. He just embarrassed her in front of millions of people!” Virginia said, feeling empathetic. “Olivia Davis, I’ll be sure to remember that name.”

As the voice continued reading off names, Virginia finally came up with a name for her Good Place Art Studio; Paintricity. She always had wonders about lightning and electricity, something she only got to experience once a year at the ceremony, in a room filled with lights. She was so amused by it and wanted to learn more. So, she took her two most amusing interests and put them together. Paint and electricity; Paintricity. While she was thinking of the layout of her studio, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“It’s time. They’re announcing the people who made it to the good place!” Virginia’s Dad said enthusiastically.

“Are they going in alphabetical order?”

“You bet. There are millions of families here though, so it still might take a while.”

“Okay, thanks Dad. Let me know when they get close to us.”

Virginia decided to take a little rest to calm her anxiety. It obviously didn’t work, and she was stuck listening to the irritating voice.

“Okay, V. This is going a little faster than usual, we’re at the ADs already,” her father said hesitantly.

“ADs?” Virginia questioned.

“My bad, I mean Adams, it goes A-D-A-M-S, so obviously since the third letter is A, we might be close.”

“Alright, thanks!” Virginia said, hiding her tears. She was so incredibly horrified, she couldn’t stand to stay another year in The Bad Place.

Virginia tried her best not to zone out, but miserably failed. She started thinking about how well they did, and gained a ton of confidence. She tuned back in and listened to the names. “Adams Family, not to confuse them with the other Adams family. Only one Adams family has made it, and that is the family with Lily and Rolland Adams.”

Virginia’s heart dropped. “No. No, this can’t be happening. Dad?”

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this. I’m sorry guys.”

The whole family broke down into tears, all of them forgetting about their newly gained confidence.

January 1st

It was already 12AM, so they all stayed quiet until they were brought home. Virginia immediately began running to her room, till she realized everything was empty.

“Happy New Year,” Virginia’s father said grimly.

Yet again, all of them ignored him and went upstairs to claim their rooms.

“I call this one!” Eva, Virginia’s little sister, said, pointing at small room in the corner of the second floor.

Virginia tried to claim her room, till she heard a knock on the front door, along with the rest of her family. You don’t receive any type of communication from the outside until December 31st, and it was January 1st.

Virginia heard the door squeak open, and then a scream.

“Ethan! Oh sweetie, we’ve missed you so much!” Virginia’s Mom screamed, crying happy tears.

Virginia ran down the stairs, only to see a tall, pale boy standing in their new living room. The boy approached her with a smile on his face. “Hi. I’m Eth- sorry. Hi! I’m Ethan, your brother.”

His eyes were filled with worry, but she didn’t bother to ask what was wrong. “Hi. I’m Virginia, your sister.”

“It’s so great to finally meet you. Hey, Virginia, can you show me your room?”

“Oh, I don’t even know what room I want yet, but maybe you can help me pick. Follow me,” Ethan followed after her and immediately grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

“Virginia, right? Okay, I know I sound crazy, but you’re a Guard.”

“What are you talking about? Only men can be Guards.”

“Virginia! You have the reflection in your eye. This has never happened before, the other guards and I always make jokes about having a woman guard, but we never thought it would become reality.”

“Gender equality!” Virginia argued.

“Listen to me. After this week is over. You need to come with me. I’m gonna go downstairs. Let’s discuss this later.”

Virginia walked into her newly claimed room, completely lost. “I think he’s crazy. You’re fine, Virginia, just go to bed,” she said to herself, attempting to think about something else.

She got her pajamas on and climbed into her wooden bed, when there was a huge bang. She opened her eyes, only to see a girl her age standing right in front of her. She convinced herself she was dreaming, but couldn’t force herself to lay back down.

“Oh my! Hi, I’m Olivia. Olivia Davis. I don’t know how I got here, but please don't call anyone on me.”

Olivia Davis. She had known that name from somewhere. “Olivia Davis? Olivia Davis! You’re the girl who made history!” Virginia seemed excited, but Olivia frowned immediately after she said that. “Oh, I’m sorry. But, whatever prank this is, it’s not funny. Leave!”

“Please, I need help. They found out I was a woman guard, for The Bad Place. They thought I was a trap and sent me back.”

Virginia’s jaw dropped yet again. “I’m a guard too! My… brother, I guess is what I would call him, just told me. I’m freaking out and I need help too.” They both heard family coming up the stairs and panicked. “Go under my bed, quick!”

The door opened faster than lightning. It was opened so fast, she didn’t recognize anyone at the door. She continuously blinked, trying to gain her vision back. She sat there for about five seconds, and still didn’t recognize anyone. It wasn’t her visions fault.

Around five men dressed in all black approached her bed. They were Bad Place Guards. One of the men reached his hand under the bed and grabbed Olivia. Olivia immediately began to laugh. “I guess you can say the tests were successful, boss. Let’s go, Virginia.” All of the men grabbed Virginia and followed after Olivia. Virginia managed to open her eyes and escape her thoughts. When she opened them, her whole family was gone. Little did she know, she would never see them again.

The end was near, though none of us knew it. The enemy soldiers were nearing closer to our encampment every day, although no one had any idea how prepared the enemy was or how many soldiers they had. Everyone had begun to lose hope, especially after the news we received that night.
The day began in the usual way, with a few exercises, a mediocre meal, and then job assignments. The exercises weren’t particularly tough, and the food was unremarkable, except for the fact that the food stores were beginning to run low, and we each received only ¾ of the regular meal.
That morning, I was assigned to guard the camp and keep watch in the nearby meadows. This was quite a boring job, but better than doing the cooking or anything of that sort. The camp was located near the banks of a mighty river, which we were trying to prevent the enemy from crossing. I was instructed to go to the north side of camp and keep watch over the road leading to the nearby village and guard the entrance to our camp.
Another soldier was sent with me to guard the road, and his name was Anthony Windsor. We had spoken to each other before, but only briefly, and I only knew little of him. He was an intelligent man of about 30, and was very well-liked in the military. He was a handsome man with dark brown flowing wavy hair, and was of average height. Like most of us, he didn’t want to be in this war, but was selected when the war began.
Around noontide, we took a short break to eat our meals. We sat on two stones adjacent to the road, and pulled out the ration sacks we had been given at the beginning of the day. They contained stale bread, which must have been baked a week before, and a small piece of disgusting cheese which tasted as if it had gone bad six months ago. 
“It’s rather terrible being a soldier, isn’t it, Leon?” Anthony asked me. I looked over at him, noticing the way he tore a moldy piece off his bread and threw it to the ground.
“Yes, it really is quite horrid.” I said, staring out into the meadow, “We expected it to be filled with fighting and glory, but all we do is sit like ducks waiting to be killed.” Anthony paused for a second after I said that. He seemed suddenly sad, like he had just thought about the family he left behind when he was called to fight.
“I wish I was back home, at my family’s farm. It was so peaceful there, it was like there were no worries in the world.” I noticed he was beginning to cry, but he tried to hide it. I acted like I didn’t see it, and turned and continued eating my food.
When we both finished eating our rations, we stood up and continued our watch. We didn’t speak much after that, but we were both thinking about the war. It was during that time that I started to miss my family most. In the military, I had known no one when I entered, and even the few people I spoke to everyday felt like strangers to me.

About six or seven hours later, around sunset and just as Anthony and I were just about to go back to our tents, we found a man. He was wearing tattered clothing and had been severely wounded. He would not identify who he was, but claimed that he was a soldier and wished to be brought to the camp.
We agreed, and Anthony carried him on his back as we ran quickly to the medical area. We found an officer near the main medical tent and we showed him the man and asked for him to be allowed into the tent. When he saw him, 
“There were a couple of scouts sent out last week to find where the enemy was and report about their position and number of soldiers,” the officer said, “he was one of them.”
    Anthony and I left the tent, eager to hear the news the man had brought, and walked over to the meal tent. We found seats at the back table, where it was quieter, set down our things, and went to the serving station.
The food was horrible, consisting of bland oats and stale bread. We all ate quickly, so we could get back to our tents for our evening relaxation period. At that time, I began to think about my homeland, the rolling hills, and dense forests, and the family I left behind. I deeply missed it all and found myself wishing that this horrid war would end.
One of my good friends, Christopher, came in late and sat next to me and Anthony.
“Hello Chris,” I said, seeing him walk over to the table, “come here and sit with us.
“Hello Leon,” he said, sitting down next to me. “Sorry I was late, there was trouble on the river. A soldier was trying to jump in the river. We had to hold him back and take him to the medical tent.”
We continued talking for a while until we finished our food. I carried my dishes back to the kitchen and put them in the wash-bin. After I finished doing that, I said goodbye to Chris and Anthony and began walking to my assigned sleeping tent.
The tent was located near the edge of the camp, right next to the riverbank. That side of the camp was littered with tents, mostly residential quarters.
I walked down to my tent and entered through the door in the side.
As I entered my tent, I saw about ten people sitting around the tent, each focused on what they were doing. Most people were reading or talking, a few were smoking the strange herbs we found in the woods. I said hello to everyone, changed my clothes, and sat down on my bed.                    
“Hey Leon,” said the man sitting in the bed next to me, “how was guard duty? Any trouble?”
“We had one scout show up at the end of my shift, but other than that, not too much trouble. How was it down in the kitchen?”
“Not too bad today, but still quite boring.”
I talked with him for a while longer, Philip Simmons was his name. He was a nice man, and I had gotten to know him quite well during our time.
Just as I was about to finish my conversation with Phillip, a man entered our tent, an officer he was. He seemed to be in shock, and he ran in rather quickly.
“Get up men!” he screamed, tumbling into the room, “the enemy is closer than we thought, they will arrive in a few hours. Get your things ready and report to your superior!”
At that moment, the tent was filled with energy as we all grabbed our equipment and hurried towards the door. As we ran out, we saw hundreds of soldiers gathering around the center of the camp. There, we were instructed to prepare our weapons and get ready to defend our position. 
The next few hours consisted of running around, preparing our defences and getting our equipment ready for the impending battle. It was quite exciting, however nerve racking. The enemy was getting closer, and we had about an hour left until they would arrive.
The whole camp was hectic, and everyone was running around, doing all sorts of different preparations. I was at the armory, getting weapons ready, when I began hearing the quiet sound of the enemy’s warhorns in the distance. At that moment, the whole camp began rushing toward their positions. I was stationed to the front lines, a very unlucky position to be in.
The next hour was a blur. As I saw the enemy approaching us, I suddenly became very terrified. During the battle, my thoughts became unclear, and I began to stop thinking straight. The only thing I could remember from the battle was the sound of the cannons booming in the distance. Shortly into the battle, I was shot in the leg, making me faint and collapse onto the ground.
I awoke about an hour later, lying in a pile of bodies near the site where I fell. I was in terrible pain, and it felt like my leg was being torn off at the hip. I could see the battle had ended a while ago, and we had clearly lost. There were dead bodies everywhere, and I searched through the piles, looking for anyone still alive.
As I was digging through the piles, I suddenly saw Anthony’s head sticking out between two bodies. I quickly pulled him out, and I immediately saw that he had been shot in the chest, and had bled to death. I shed a tear as I set down his body.
I continued to walk through the battle site, limping from my own wounds. As I walked past a very large pile, I noticed Christopher lying on top of the pile. I ran over and wept at his feet. He had been one of my best friends, though I hadn’t known him long. I missed him deeply, but I continued walking. The pain in my leg had gotten worse, and I could barely walk.
As I limped back to camp, I saw Philip lying dead alone next to the road. He had tried to run when the fighting began, but was shot in the back. He was lying face-down in the mud, and was covered in blood. I quickly passed him by, limping my way back to camp.
As I walked through the fields, I came across a beautiful wildflower. I paused for a moment to admire it, and I noticed it had been trampled during the battle. It was a thing of such beauty, destroyed in the horrid war.

Alia Ertimi

To Not be Forgotten 

Imagine a world so lonely, filled with strangers and no familiarity 

Where we forget our ability to be sympathetic 

To practice equality

To care for our neighbors

To give kindness and affection.

Without those simple things we would be lost

Lost in hate

Lost in our own ignorance 

Lost in the ugly and dark 

We seem to forget that we are all we have

Love is endless ,and should never be forgotten

Because a world without is a world truly unworthy of living.

How much longer? That’s the question I keep on asking myself. I have withstood wind and hail, storm and rain, the scorching hot summers without wavering, without once complaining. I know that I have a destiny to fulfill. So I will wait however long I need to, because I know that it will be worth it in the end.
            But, really, HOW MUCH LONGER? I mean, so much time has passed. No action leads to desperation, and I am standing still. Who knows how long I’ve been here already? Countless summers have come and withered away into the dark shades of fall, turning to breezy winters that melt into gentle springs. Has that tree always been there? 

You mustn't think I’m bored. I have many ways of entertaining myself, like looking for shapes in the clouds. That one, there, looks like a ball of cotton. So does that one! That one looks like...another ball of cotton. Some days the clouds are better at this game than others.
            Oh, everything was quite exciting for the first couple of days, sure. Or was it the first couple of centuries? People would travel from far and wide to see me, stand and gawk, marvel at my majesticness. They would gaze in wonder and whisper to each other. I was almost humming with excitement, so sure, SO SURE that each day was the one. But The One never came, hope grew thinner, and slowly the “not them”s turned to “not anyone”. Some people seemed content to merely give a tug and walk away, while others stood for hours trying to pull and shove. Oh, and then there was the Incident with the Sledgehammer. That was heavy.
            Eventually but inevitably, I was forgotten. Hope faded away. Everyone just shrugged me off as a myth, an impossible task, a wild goose chase. And so the downpour of people dwindled into a stream, then a trickle. And now everyone has forgotten.

It’s really sad being forgotten.

Oh, really, it's not so bad. I mean, no more noise, no more horses, no more bad smells. Oh, the smells! Vegetation has grown to cover the sun. Finally, no more glare! The birds chirping in the morning make my day. Sure, there’s the loneliness, and all the clouds are awful at games. But, really, it’s not so bad. Right?

Sigh. It’s really sad being forgotten.

But I can’t give up yet. I know that my other half is out there somewhere. Because otherwise, what am I? I am meant for something. I have to be meant for something, else I am nothing. And so here I stay, faithful to fate still, waiting, stranded in time while the world moves on around me, I suppose. Seconds might have passed, or hours, or decades. I’m still here, waiting for the day when I finally get to go out and make the world right. Waiting for the day when I will see someone and feel that spark, that connection, and instantly know that, together, we are destined for glory.

You know, maybe it’s not them. Maybe the problem is destiny. What if destiny has some unreachable, grandiose expectations of what the right person will be like? What if this was never meant to be my story after all? Maybe I am just a dreamer, more dramatic than a Shakespeare play, with polemic plans and fantastic ideas of what my future will be. Maybe… maybe all I’m ever going to do is stay in this neverending standstill and watch the grass grow. Then I defy you, stars!

Wait. The earth is trembling. Horses! Trust me, I spent enough decades  around those creatures to know what their footsteps feel like. One time, this silver steed pooed right next to me. Oh, the smell! Oh, it was horrible! I very nearly fainted right there on the spot. Oh! I could compose poetry about how horrible horse droppings are. What rhymes with “nasal attack”? Or “exceedingly unpleasant”? Or perhaps “puke”?

Wait a second… Horses mean people! It’s been so long since someone has taken the paths leading through here. HELLO, GOOD FELLOWS! No? No answer? Ugh. The ground is trembling quite a bit now- must be a lot of horses. Probably a tournament. You know, with the glittering tents and the people bragging and showing off in contests. No matter how much time passes, people still love their tournaments. I never really liked them myself. I mean, I could beat all those people in a heartbeat. Also, too many horses. Shudder.

And… there go the horses. Very well, goodbye! I didn’t need you anyways! I’ll just go back to my wonderfully consistent life now!!!! So wonderfully consistent!

Today seems like a different day. You see, that cloud right there looks less like a cotton ball and more like...2 cotton balls! Squished together! I am getting good at this!

Huh, the birds seem agitated today. They keep taking off for no particular reason. Hello, my avian friends! Please don’t poo on me today! Have you noticed that particularly unique cloud in the sky this morning? No? 

Oh, look, the unexpected crack of a branch in the forest! It might be a deer. Or a person. But probably a deer.

Wait, is that...a voice? Could it be? Yes, I’ll become famous once more, my myth will be revived once this person finds me and tells everyone he knows! I knew it! I knew this was going to happen! I bet that everyone will start visiting me again, and all the bards will write songs about me, and the most beautiful ballads will be composed in my honor. And, among the many, I’ll finally find The One. Oh, at last, hope!

And here comes the fellow who will reintroduce me into the world! He’s on foot, not on a horse. What a sensible lad. And so young, too, not even old enough to be a knight . He looks quite lost, his eyes keep darting around the forest like a hare’s. It looks as though he’s looking for something. Could it be me? 

First there were hundreds, thousands, millions of people. And then there was one.

He spots me at last, his eyes light up, and reaches out. It can’t be him. But then, I feel it! That spark, that buzz in the air! This is the one. I’m sure of it.

He reaches out and frees me at long last. It was true. It was all true. 

He will be king.

For I am Excalibur. 

“He asked me a question… ‘Why didn’t I stay in Mexico?’ Because this is the greatest country in the world.” - Adrian Iraola*

There was just one thing Jade knew deep in her mind: she was very, very sick. She felt it in the morning when she looked in the mirror. She felt it when she walked through the halls at school. She felt it when she called her family back at home. It wasn’t a deathly, fearful sort of sick like the thousands of infected, many from her hometown--it was a sick that clung to her the way a saccharine perfume clings to your clothes. It clung to her the way an overplayed song clings to your mind. Once she discovered the sickness, she was trapped in its labyrinth; it was inescapable.

At first, Jade ignored it. She’d heard of the virus from the news, and dismissed it as another overdramatized “hot topic” that journalists wrote in order to keep people on their toes, or, as they liked to call it, it was “breaking news”. The media, she had learned, was dominated by people looking to spread an agenda and gain profit while wearing a mask of the search for truth. What they used to call blatant lies were now acceptable “alternative facts”. That month, she had read of multiple events that suggested things like World War 3, the disintegration of countries, and Armageddon, but the sun still shone and the earth still spun.

She only took it seriously when her family began to panic. She called them for hours on end to get a grasp of the situation that wasn’t convoluted through the media. Their city was sealed off, quarantining the few sick patients with millions of healthy individuals (who most likely wouldn’t be healthy for long). Significantly more people were afflicted by paranoia than illness, and the mass panic created more illness, chaining the citizens into the shackles of an infinite negative feedback loop. The entire country was a prison with uncountable layers, not unlike the joyful matryoshka dolls of their northern neighbor. They were first confined in their country, then imprisoned in their city, then caged in their house, and in the end, people refused to leave their room out of irrational fear of their roommates. The two week incubation period began to feel like months. At this rate, people weren’t sure if they would die from the disease or from hunger. Jade began to feel faint despite her lack of interaction with the city. She washed her hands, 20 seconds, warm water, but it was too late. She was sick to her stomach with distress and melancholy. She scanned every article and wept until her room could no longer contain her tears. She became stifled and couldn’t handle being alone. She wondered if someone could die from isolation.

So she went to school, a cloud over her head and a cape of lethargy draped over her body. She became the living, breathing (barely) embodiment of gloom. It wasn’t until this point that she was finally able to realize the severity of her illness. With every word, every breath, every step, her symptoms were leaking out of her. She watched each and every passing accusatory stare. Her head continuously drooped lower until it touched the ground. She saw her friends pointedly use hand sanitizer whenever she came by with her black hair and dark eyes. She closed her eyes to stop seeing. When her mouth felt dry, she swallowed hard to prevent herself from coughing, but it did nothing to ease the glares and soothe her thoughts. She ran to the drinking fountain, too afraid of being caught taking a cough drop. Once, in the back of the dusty school library, she sneezed. From then on, she avoided dust like it was a deadly virus. 

That week on, Jade waged a war on multiple fronts. From the east, she was attacked with countless horror stories of deaths, with each story seeming to crawl closer to her own parents, at first inching forwards, and now, approaching in a terrifying sprint. She begged the sky to make the stories stop, or even just slow. From the west, slanderous whispers with thinly veiled threats bombarded her. She stopped going to school: if you can’t hear the the warning bells, they don’t exist. She had a one-man army and could trust no one--including herself. Every night, she poisoned herself with terror in her own dreams. The moment she began to show symptoms of her own disease, her mind had decided to turn its back on her. Who would be there for her now? Her disease, like the currently widespread virus, had no cure. 

It’s said that once you hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go but up, but in the middle of the Pacific ocean, it seems that you can fall forever. As countries isolate themselves, their locked borders provide that there are no overhead planes to save you, and even if there were, who would see such an insignificant little dot in the world? If you foolishly attempt to claw your way back up, you will be met with failure and suffocation. There is no safety in the water.

When Jade screamed for help, all she got was a mouthful of saltwater. And in this way, she drowned.

*Adrian Iraola is a father of a student attending Saline High School in Michigan. At a public board meeting to discuss racial tensions at school, he had mentioned how when he walked into his son’s bedroom to say goodnight, his son was “crying because of the abuse endured in this school system”. After he had explained how his son was bullied for being Mexican, he was asked why he didn’t just stay in Mexico if it’s so bad in America. This quote was his response, and it highlights that America is a beacon of hope in many other countries, with parents working incredibly hard to send their children to this country, but America still has many deeply-rooted discriminatory issues.

Lightning struck above the mansion as I approached the gate. It was the only structure still standing in the rubble of what had once been a prosperous village. Why do I keep coming back? Thinking of the worst things that could happen, I slowly walked towards the main entrance. Hands sweating, I pulled the doors open a tiny crack. They creaked eerily, and I jumped. From where I stood, darkness was the only element visible. Shining my flashlight across the entryway, I heaved a sigh of relief. I was alone. There are no ghosts or headless horsemen in this world. No vampires. In the midst of these reassuring thoughts, a voice came from nowhere. 

 “Come, my child, come to me.” whispered the anonymous voice, raspy and cracked, yet somehow familiar. 

“W-Who are you?” I asked, frightened. There was no reply. Suddenly, my body began moving on its own. I walked limply into the mansion, the doors slamming shut behind me. The power of my flashlight flickered and died. I was left in total darkness. That’s when I remembered who the voice belonged to… my mother! After years of ignoring the pain, I could no longer keep the memories away. It was time to face what had happened. 

Eight years ago, our village was under attack. Bombs exploded, fire spread to every inch of the place I’d known to be “home”. As protection from the flames, Mother hid me under a wet piece of cloth, then left to save others. I can still see the flames, feel the heat, hear the screams in my mind as intensely as ever. I had no family. The fire took everything from me. I collapsed and fell to the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks.

At that moment, a strong force pulled me onto my feet, and I continued down the long hallway. Stumbling in the darkness, I passed what seemed like an endless row of identical closed doors. As I reached the end of the hallway and approached the final door, it swung open. Curious, I moved closer. A single beam of moonlight from a barred window revealed a tiny room where a woman was held prisoner. I entered, and she slowly lifted her head, wincing in pain. Her hands were covered in scars and chained to the wall. Wrinkles covered her face, masking her features. But when her eyes met mine, I gasped in recognition ... “Mother?” 

The corners of her mouth lifted upwards. “MOTHER!” I shouted, more certain this time. I knew that smile. I let the tears come, one by one, rolling down my cheek. 

“Don’t cry, my child, you can do something to help me.” she replied tenderly, “Although there may be some risk.”

“I’ll do anything for your sake.” I said with conviction.

“A key lies on the windowsill. Free me from these chains.” Without hesitation, I walked to the barred window, and my fingers found the key. 

Wanting terribly to break apart those chains, I fumbled with the cuff searching blindly for the keyhole. Found! I smiled at the thought of my mother pulling me into a close embrace. This was the reunion I had been dreaming of, ever since the fire tragedy. Clink. The chain dropped to the ground. One hand was free. I looked up, expecting to see her warm, pleased gaze. Instead, I was greeted with a sharp stare, from eyes that were blood red and piercing. The air temperature dropped drastically and I shivered, moving away in fear. 

“What are you waiting for, my child? Hurry, I have no time to waste.” Mother urged. 

I didn’t move. I had no words. Her impatience only grew with my silence. 

“No more waiting. The legacy must continue!” And without a single movement, her left hand was free. 

“How…?” I was confused, shocked. What was happening? Then, the wheels in my head began spinning, and the pieces connected. So, she had planned this. She had drawn me here. 

“Have you figured it out yet?” Mother asked. “I always knew you were smart.” 

 “It’s true. You really are … ?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. 

 “Yes, for generations, all the women in our family have been vampires.” She paused unsure, but continued. “The mother has to turn her eldest daughter into a vampire by the age of ten. It’s three years pass the age in the legacy, and my powers are quickly fading. If the legacy is not passed on soon, I will die.” She took a few steps in my direction, and I heard the door lock behind me.

I was still trying to comprehend the words that just came out of her mouth. My mother -- the only family I have left, the person I thought would always love me -- is a heartless vampire?

“I thought you cared about me!” I  screamed “I.. thought you loved me.” I backed up against the door, but she closed the distance between us. We were now only inches apart. 

“I do love you! This is the only way we can be together! Hurry! Now!” she demanded. Maybe to save Mother… I should… questions whirled like a tornado in my head. I couldn’t think straight. 

 “The legacy is passed on through eye contact. There will be no pain.” she explained, anticipating my question. 

“If I do this… will you live?” I started to panic. Her outline was soft and indistinct. I could see  her powers weakening. If I don't agree to this… Mother… I couldn’t help but remember how she used to be, back in the village. 

“Please… I have seconds ...” She reached for me, and I did the same. Before we could touch, Mother’s hands turned transparent, and faded away into dust. I gasped. 

“Goodbye, my daughter.” she whispered. Then the rest of her body slowly faded, just as her hands had, leaving only a pile of golden dust on the bare floor. 

Moonlight shone through the window. I knelt down, running my fingers through the shimmering dust in the cold, empty cell. 

Defy the stars and go follow your heart

You egg, the course of love never ran smooth

Deceit can be good, or tear you apart

That’s right, Macbeth, yup, trees can move, forsooth

Laughter and puns are always required

The nonmurderers end up with the throne

Out, blighted spot! Watch what you've conspired

Be patient, just leave well enough alone

Careful, consider what messages send

Listen to witches and you’ll lose your head

True love will always win out in the end

Even if you and four more end up dead

Nothing will ever be quite what it seems

If these offended, they were merely dreams

Turns out one touch can change everything. How was I supposed to fathom the inevitable demise of the one I loved? How was I, a young, naive, careless and rambunctious child of no less than 18 supposed to? God, I can scarcely remember her face. Her dimples, a pair. Her pearly teeth, her crackly cold golden eyes, crisp like winter’s birth. I’ll be damned, it’s clear. It’s like the mirror has unfogged and she’s sitting behind me right now, at this moment. I touch my hand to the glass. But instead all I witness is the bath I had drawn, idly loitering for me to sit. And I do. The suds close in around my bent legs, and a familiar smell appears. It’s sharp, and digs into your skin. Mint. It must be the new soap that I bought earlier. It smelled potent and pleasant. I stare into the water and see a face of someone so foolish. So oblivious. Where is he now? Where has he gone?

     There he is, on a bench. And who’s next to him? Why, it’s her. Her and her beautiful dimples and illustrious eyes. They’re holding hands. Their fingers intertwined like vines on the side of a suburban house. Their cheeks rosy red like the speckled sky above them. Her lips, despite the cold, pink with warmth. This was the blossoming of something fantastic. It would only grow from here. But wait, they’ve disappeared. I look around the tub, and it is covered in bubbles. Finally, an opening appears. The soap parts ways for my gaze. This time, I see a lot of people. Flashing lights parade around a dark room. Where is- oh, there he is, and he’s with her. They’re the center of the world. They’re at the top of the tower, happy at last. Or so they thought. Life was so simple then. I watched as they partied away into the next day being mischievous teens. They suddenly kiss and a strong scent fills my nostrils. Mint, probably from a breath mint she had taken. She always made sure she was her best for me.

     Another spot appeared. I heard the sweet voice of her singing Elton John, as the rest of us reclined back and soak it in. And another. I saw us hiking the Pinnacle in New Hampshire, and feeling proud once we got to the top. I smelled cheesy goodness from Stella’s afterwards. And another And another. This time they’re arguing. Something quite stupid I assume.  There they are again, this time not as joyful. Their cheeks are red again, but more like the red of a burning fire. Another. Oh god, red. All I can see is red. I try to find another spot but I cannot. I finally settle back and focus on the red. Within it I hear crying. I soon see a face. Tears flow down her cheeks like a white water rafter on a journey through the rapids. There are trenches in her arms where the demons hide. They fester there. How couldn’t I see them? Was it my fault for not noticing? I was nearing the end of the bath, the suds slowly disappearing.

     The last spot. There she was, standing in front of a deep purple sky. Her hands are scratched with dirt and grit. She wears her war. Blue and red flicker a minute away. But before they arrived, she felt she must go, One foot, another, one foot, another. White speckled the night. Someone should have told her to not fly away before her wings had healed. Before she had grown to her full extent of glory. Before she became a beautiful peacock and flashed her blues and greens for everyone to see. But she didn’t know all this before she jumped. Just as she took one last look at the sky, I saw her golden eyes. The ones I saw before our first kiss. The ones I saw on Facetime before bed.The ones I saw when I brought her to Prom. The one’s I saw before we hiked the Pinnacle and got Stella’s pizza afterwards. The ones I saw when she sang “Candle in the Wind” by Elton John beautifully at my birthday party. The ones I saw before I couldn’t anymore. She left me all alone. I held my breath and leaned into the water. Mint. My muscles tensed. I pulled out the plug and watched as all the memories flowed down the drain. She knew I loved mint.

     Her life was full of rich, beautiful substance, more than she could ever know it was. It was a delicious stew full of potatoes, greens, and other tasty foods. It was a fantastic show that I wanted to be a part of every single day. It was and could have been so glorious. She was worth more than the entire world to me. If you must learn anything from me, you must know that you cannot waste your life on grudges. Small ordeals mean nothing in the long run, and before you know it, you’ll be at the home stretch of life. You won’t know why you fought at all, and all you will feel is ashamed. But I cannot blame myself for her. She left us too early. And although I fear I had a part of the equation, I know I cannot think that. There is so much I should have done that I did not. I must look to the  beautiful stars and try to find hers. One with her golden irises and auburn hair. Forever I will love her, even though now she’s gone and I can’t smell her mint conditioner or see her gorgeous eyes. Remember how rich your life is, how beautifully it grows and how its rays give light to others. Remember that when it storms, the daylight will come again. When it snows, the sun will melt it. When it’s foggy, it will be clear once more. When you love someone, never let them go.

Last night before we closed our eyes

The sky was unfathomably black

A few lone stars hung up above 

Until You scooped them up

You made a pact with Sirius

And said he would guard us well

So I held you tight and fell asleep

Covered by frosty moonlight

This morning when we woke together

The pale Sun beamed down at us

Such a beautiful day was in store

So we decided to take a stroll

Up and down the streets we went

You and I hand in hand

But then we grew tired of horizontal jaunts 

And decided to give the sky a shot

As we rose ever so gently into the air

A lark bid us good morning

A fishwife stared at us but saw nothing

For we grew invisible to human sight

The world is big and it always holds

So much fancy for young eyes

But visions do blur as gemstones dim

When they are left in a state of waste

Light as sparrows You and I ascended

And chased each other on the rooftops

The beat of our hearts grew loud and clear

As worldly noises faded out

The sky was blue dotted with white

So You and I decided to climb onto that bark

The herald angel helped us in

And together we grilled marshmallows

Inside and out our world turned white

As the cloud went down our throats

We opened our mouths and songs poured out

Birds’ songs we’d never learnt

You lifted your arm to touch my face

Only to brush it with a wing

Glorious feathers sprouted everywhere

And then it was time to fly

The angel followed us behind

Smiling to himself

If you did raise your head by then

You would have spotted two baby birds

A new joy is a thing of beauty 

As a thing of beauty is a joy forever

We flapped our wings without a care in the world

Until we realized it was time to go home

Common humans as we were

We asked the angel if we had reached the top

And he replied with just a smile

Then quietly gestured down 

Down we looked and felt so dazed

For we were seeing what we always see on Earth

Below us the town lay in troubled repose 

With a few lights running away from the dark

It had grown cold by then

Neither cotton nor candy could calm our nerves

So we took a fall among the clouds

Brushing past some stars

As we fell our memories played tricks

And we all the fun was softly erased

By the time we landed back on Earth

We had forgotten we had flown

It would have been just another day from work

If we did not look up at the sky

Which instead of black

Offered an indulgent engulfing blue

And we remembered that there are boundaries 

Which cannot ever be defied

However we had felt like birds

We were really just two fish in the aquarium

In the Garden of Flowers once again, I crusade for the perfect bouquet. Leave my footprints in the loam as if they will really stay. The freshest stems, I learn, snap like a neck snaps when it is broken—yearning for a memory which will never lapse.

Pitiful, piteous thorns pierce my skin. Fail to draw blood as I gather my flowers: each without a flaw. But wilting in the darkest hours. I name them Calliope and Robel and Thea and Arlin and they tremble when I cut them before falling still forevermore.

Prayer—young one, little girl not yet five—arrives asking why the best… people must die first. Red blood begins to drip from my little gardening scythe. And I realize it is the flowers I have put to rest; they are the reason little girl not yet five now cries.

Why? Because only the most beautiful belong in my bouquet.